


Come on, Waste My Time

by comeonharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Blow Jobs, Come as Lube, Dirty Talk, HARRY IN MEsh, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, also harry has a lot of cacti, and zayn hates them, but its mild, haha rhyming, i wanted this to be wild, idek where liam is, only a smidge of spanking actually, um louis and niall are mentioned a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonharry/pseuds/comeonharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry in mesh tops makes everyone a little hot</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Spread out on the bed with his ass in the air is no one other than Harry, reaching around himself trying to shove a pink dildo farther up his ass. He's got this droopy black mesh top on, scrunched up so far it's under his chin and folding over into his hair. He looks and sounds a mess, so desperate and so involved that he doesn't notice Zayn standing at in the doorway.</em></p><p> </p><p>title from We're on Fire Tonight by Sweet Thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come on, Waste My Time

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah basically all i ever think about is zarry and harry in mesh tops so this happened.
> 
> its entirely fiction and this is the first thing ive posted on ao3 woo

Zayn likes to think Harry and him are making significant progress. It is exceptionally difficult to move in with a near stranger and make it work, but they have navigated the rough waters together. They got passed those couple weeks when they basically lived to drive the other up the wall. Zayn with his indecisiveness and noncommittal _maybe’s_ when Harry asked a question; Harry with his insistence on some things that weren’t even that serious or his refusal to be lonely. They got passed the awkward handjob Harry gave Zayn one night after rewatching Queer As Folk on Netflix that ended with Harry throwing up on Zayn’s thigh. Zayn somehow survived that one week when Harry kept bringing home this same obnoxious guy that ate everything in their fridge and fucked Harry so hard he left indents in the wall from the headboard which Zayn had to plaster over.

Now it seems they’re in some new stage of roommates. They’ve just got out of that time where they spent every waking minute together (after Harry accepted the fact that Zayn is going to smoke weed whenever the fuck he feels like it and Zayn has come to the realization that Harry loves his cacti and won’t get rid of them). Harry has been on edge for two weeks and avoids Zayn a lot more lately. Truthfully, Zayn is probably just projecting. He just misses Harry cuddling up next to him while he reads a book for his Lit class and misses Harry kicking at his feet under the table during breakfast.

The first day of winter break, Zayn goes down to get the mail. It’s usually Harry’s job, but he’s out with his mom and sister having lunch. There’s nothing but an inconspicuous box wrapped in brown paper when Zayn opens their cubby. It’s addressed to Harry, but other than that there’s no other detailing. Zayn moves it around in his hands as he heads back to their apartment, wondering if it’s another terrarium for Harry’s plants. 

When Harry gets home later, his nose is red and his hair is extra poofy and wild, the scarf in his hair hardly doing him any good. “Did you sit outside for lunch? You do know it’s nearly freezing outside.”

Harry shrugs. “We went to the arboretum, so it’s not like there was a place to eat inside.”

Zayn tuts, abandoning the movie he was watching to help Harry out of his coat. “A package came for you today,” Zayn informs him, holding one sleeve so Harry can slip his arm out.

“You didn’t open it, did you?”

Zayn frowns. “Of course not. You think I’d snoop through your mail?”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No, sorry. I just- nevermind. Where is it?”

“It’s on the kitchen counter,” Zayn says, hanging up Harry’s coat for him.

Harry doesn’t open the package like he usually would, he just gives Zayn a small smile before retreating to his room and closing the door. 

\--

The rest of the week is spent indoors due an impromptu blizzard that leaves them snowed in. Zayn is grateful for it, the weather answered his wishes for some uninterrupted time with Harry. Zayn won’t admit it to himself unless he’s drunk or high, but he’s got a thing for Harry. He wants to be around him all the time, even if sometimes it seems that Harry might be suffocating under Zayn’s clinginess.

On the weekend the weather has cleared up immensely and Harry and Zayn have consumed far too much hot chocolate and ramen noodles. Zayn expects Harry to jet off immediately to see friends or family, but Harry spends the day pestering Zayn and sort of making him feel bad for being a homebody.

That’s how Zayn ends up making plans with Niall for the next day. But of course he wakes up late and finds himself rushing around. Niall won’t necessarily care, but Zayn hates making Niall of all people wait; he’s such a good guy he doesn’t deserve lazy people like Zayn showing up thirty minutes late and looking awful.

However, it’s only par for the course that Zayn forgets his keys as soon as he gets to his car. He rushes back into the apartment to grab his keys, but stops in his tracks when a very different sound echoes over the quiet rumble of the TV show he left on. Zayn hears the sound again--a soft sort of submission--and heads towards Harry’s room. He knows, generally, what he’s walking into when he peeks through Harry’s half-open door, but he doesn’t know the extremity of what he’s going to see.

Spread out on the bed with his ass in the air is no one other than Harry, reaching around himself trying to shove a pink dildo farther up his ass. He's got this droopy black mesh top on, scrunched up so far it's under his chin and folding over into his hair. He looks and sounds a mess, so desperate and involved that he doesn't notice Zayn standing at in the doorway.

Zayn stands there for longer than he should, trying to piece things together more than watch. So the package wasn’t a terrarium (thankfully), but it is a dildo and maybe Harry was so antsy being shut in with Zayn all week because he wanted to use it. Zayn goes to leave, but he forgets to secure the keys in his hand and they jingle together horrifically. 

Harry's careful yet strenuous position crumbles when his body jolts, the dildo slipping out of his wet hole as he rolls onto his side with a stricken expression. He hastily wipes the drool from his face, looking so ashamed, so red and so embarrassed to have his roommate catch him like this when it's not even been six months that they've lived together.

"I forgot my keys,” Zayn says lamely, his mouth as dry as when he smokes three or four joints in a row. 

"Well, you have them. What’re you doing in my doorway?" 

The tension in the room is building quickly, but it's different for both of them. Zayn feels aroused, his dick hardening despite himself while Harry only seems to be getting angry, his eyebrows drawing in and the dip of his top lip becoming more pronounced as he pouts. Zayn doesn't want to be set back to his mother's house over this, no matter how much he misses her cooking. He likes Harry and mentally berates himself for having even interrupted him. He doesn't know what he expected to happen.

"Fuck," Zayn hisses, wringing his hands together and cringing when Harry even covers himself with the sheets. His hair is curly and wet around his face where sweat collected and the pink dildo is obscene the the white sheets, glistening. "I'm sorry. This- I honestly don't even know what I'm doing. _Fuck_."

Zayn leaves. His heart is pounding and he can't get a cigarette lit and between his lips fast enough as he rushes down the steps and locks himself in his car. For a moment he actually thought real life was a porno and that maybe Harry wanked off to the thought of Zayn as much as Zayn wanked off to Harry. Of course Zayn is an idiot and this just goes to show that imagination and daydreaming makes you do crazy things. 

He drives downtown and lets the city lights wash over him until his gas tank and cigarette cartridge are almost empty instead of meeting up with Niall. He sent Niall a telling him he couldn't make it, but didn't answer any of the texts Niall sent back. Zayn knows that Niall won't think anything of it because he hardly replies to anything that isn't in person. With the prospect of hanging out with Niall out of the way, Zayn spends the evening roaming the streets and steadfastly ignoring the temptation of the neon signs of bars.

He has to go back sometime, so he can't necessarily drink himself into a stupor. He can't just leave his comic book collection and hundred dollar leather jacket behind. But he also can't bear to face Harry again, knowing that Harry knows he's a worthless pervert. One look and Harry will be able to discern that Zayn has the image of Harry bent over with a dildo in his ass burned onto the back of his eyelids, that he'll probably touch himself to that image for months--maybe years--to come.

A very melodramatic and embarrassing soliloquy takes place before Zayn finds himself parking in front of the apartment complex he ran away from hours ago. If he learned anything from Louis, Zayn learned how to be a "fearless bastard" and if taking countless shots with Niall until his heart pumped tequila hasn't prepared him to face this then he might as well give up on life in general. He spruces up his hair and maybe even considers crying a bit, whatever it takes for Harry to forgive him. 

Because at the end of the day he can't kid himself. He doesn't care if has to go back to be that guy who lives with his mom or face the fact that he's a pervert; all that matters is that he has Harry. Somehow within twelve weeks of skirting around each other to finding the places where they fit together, Harry has found a secure place in Zayn's heart--however cheesy that may sound. And he'll be damned if this one stupid incident will ruin the nights they spent curled up together or the clandestine smiles they share over breakfast.

Zayn lets himself in with his key and goes into a blacked out apartment. Harry knows Zayn hates having all the lights off, so maybe he wasn't planning on Zayn coming back tonight. That's upsetting, but Zayn still flicks on the living room light as he kicks off his shoes. Harry emerges from his room far too soon, sleepy-eyed and clad in nothing other than the top from earlier and some black boxer briefs. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand covered in the mesh material and cocks his head at Zayn. 

"You're back."

"Yeah, I am. Is that okay?"

Harry nods before Zayn can even finish his sentence. "Can we just go to sleep? I don't really want to talk about it."

Zayn sighs. He's relieved that Harry doesn't want to talk about it, but also not because they need to talk about it. Just say enough to have it somewhat addressed before they completely sweep it under the rug. Zayn doesn't protest, though. He watches Harry stumble back into his room before going to his own and closing the door.

His dick, hardly catching onto the situation, twitches as he settles in bed, a flitting moment of what he witnessed earlier playing through his mind. Zayn ignores it, curls into himself and clenches his teeth. He's better than that, really. It's one thing to masturbate to imagination, but it's another to do it to real life moments that you stole without permission. It's just not right.

\--

The next morning Zayn can't leave his bed. His back aches from how long he's forced himself to fall back asleep over and over. It's sometime after noon and he heard Harry bustle around in the kitchen earlier. Then he heard him grab his car keys and quietly shut the front door. The final time Zayn wakes up is when Harry opens Zayn's bedroom door and clears his throat.

"I got you some lunch. Figured you'd want something if you weren't already dead from sleeping too much." 

Harry's deep voice sounds far away with Zayn's head buried into his pillow, but he doesn't straighten up to hear better. That'd mean that Zayn would probably have to look at Harry which he would rather not do at the moment. 

"Zayn?" Harry's voice is decidedly closer. A moment later, weight sinks down next to Zayn, warmth seeping into his ribs. "Have you suffocated yourself?" Harry shakes his shoulder.

"I'm alive," Zayn manages. His stomach twists when Harry laughs at the croak in his voice.

"Good. I was hoping I didn't buy McDonald's hash browns for nothing."

Zayn can hear the smirk in Harry's voice, probably so proud of himself for remembering something that Zayn mentioned offhandedly weeks ago when they first met and were sharing their favorite foods. He doesn't even know why he's being the standoffish one when Harry was that one that was caught with his pants down--literally. Harry is trying so hard right now, Zayn owes him more than a measly _I'm alive_.

Zayn tears his face away from his pillow and turns toward Harry. It's enough to have Harry smile wide, opening the small McDonald's bag and producing a hash brown that he guides towards Zayn's mouth. Zayn takes a bite grudgingly and Harry lights up even more. "Thats a good boy."

"Oh my god, shut up," Zayn mumbles, batting the rest of the hash brown away. "And anyway, shouldn't I be the one feeding you and groveling at your feet?"

Harry seizes up at the indirect mention to last night. Zayn mentally kicks himself and racks his mind for something else to say, but Harry beats him to it when he says, "maybe you should be because it took a lot of courage for me to even come in here.”

Zayn sees Harry's cheeks flush, betraying his nonchalance. "Why?”

“Because,” Harry starts, swallowing hard and looking towards the bookshelf across the room, “because I know what you probably think of me. I sleep around and even tried to make a move on you, and now you’ve seen that…”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. "You’re saying you think that I think you’re a slut?"

Harry gets impossibly more red, but takes a bite of Zayn's hash brown and shrugs. "Yeah, ‘s what everyone that rooms with me says eventually.”

"Well, what about me? Aren’t I a perv for peeking in on you? Neither of us are perfect, H.”

Harry purses his lip and picks at a loose thread in his jeans. Zayn reaches out to pull at a particularly springy curl, causing Harry to finally look at him with a small smile. “So, did you like it?”

"Fuck off,” Zayn says with a nervous laugh.

"Seriously, if you want you can help this time.”

“I don’t-.”

Harry puts the Mcdonald’s bag on the bedside table, making a show of leaning over Zayn while he does it. “It didn’t take courage just to come and face you, you know. I want you. I want whatever you wanted to do to me when you saw me last night.”

“What do you think I want?”

“I think you want to fuck me,” Harry whispers, “I think you want me to spread out for you and let you have what you want. Am I right?”

Zayn’s heart is beating so fast that Harry can probably hear it with how close he is. He wants so much more than that honestly, but all he manages to say is, “Maybe.”

Harry's breathing his heavy at this point. It's loud in the quietness of the room. It seems this is it, the defining moment where they'll either act on the sexual tension Zayn never thought was mutual or they'll laugh it off and eat cold hash browns instead. 

Zayn knows what he wants. He wants it more the longer he lets his eyes roam over Harry, over his red, red lips and his green, green eyes. Zayn wants Harry like he wanted Christmas when he was younger even though it wasn't necessarily a holiday for him. He sits forward and bristles when his cock brushes against the fabric of his boxers, close enough to Harry to feel the warmth radiating from him.

Harry watches him with hooded yet daring eyes, challenging him to come closer and seal the deal, make what Zayn's being dreaming of a reality. Zayn's eyes follow the motion of Harry licking his lips, takes in the way his hand brushes his long, soft hair from his face that he usually pushes back with bandanas and scarves. Somehow in this moment Harry is just as exposed and raw as he was when Zayn saw him with his ass in the air and face pressed into the mattress.

Zayn goes to adjust himself, and that seems to solidify the moment to Harry, who lunges forward. Zayn manages to catch him, a hand in his hair and the other tight around his waist. Their lips crash together, quick and messy, Harry clambering to get both legs straddled over Zayn's.

Harry pulls away to shed the jacket that he's got buttoned up all the way to his chin because it's cold outside. Zayn nearly groans at the sight of that stupid mesh top, but bites his lip instead. Harry comes back in and takes Zayn's bottom lip between his own teeth, nipping and pulling until Zayn groans.

"Touch me," Harry says breathlessly against his lips, "touch me, please."

Zayn goes for the only thing he's wanted to seriously touch since he met Harry, his ass. His hands squeeze as soon as they've found their place and Harry reacts so quickly, crowding closer to Zayn and whining into his ear. Before Zayn can even process what he's doing, his hand is lifting and coming down hard. Harry rolls into him with a moan, hands gripping at his shoulders. 

"You like that?" Zayn asks gruffly, using his other hand to do it again to force a reply from Harry.

"Yes, _fuck_ , I like it," Harry gasps, mouthing along the prominent vein in Zayn's neck and sucking hard. 

Zayn curses and keeps kneading at Harry's ass. He doesn't know how far this is going, can't think much past the blood pounding in his ears and making his dick impossibly hard. Harry is heavy on him in the best way and he could possibly be content getting off just like this. 

But Harry has other plans. He's got his hands on the button of his jeans and is already trying to shimmy out of them before he's even got his fly down. He falls back from his efforts and nearly kicks Zayn in the face as he tries to peel off his fucking tight jeans.

"This is one of the times I need your help," Harry grunts, peddling his legs as if that will help.

"But this is entertaining," Zayn says with a laugh, but pulls off the jeans the rest of the way because he needs to see Harry's cock more than he needs to breathe.

Once Harry's jeans are tossed on the floor where they belong, Zayn presses Harry back down on the bed before he can try to get back in Zayn's lap. Harry gives him a confused look, but it quickly disappears when Zayn gets a hand on him. Zayn presses his palm along the hard line of Harry's cock before replacing his hand with his mouth. He breathes hotly over Harry's cock just to see it twitch. He's so eager for it, to have the heady weight of it in his mouth and filling him up. Zayn wants to take Harry apart and have him as desperate as he was the night before, more so. 

Harry bucks up against Zayn's open mouth and Zayn pinches the meat of his hip in response. Harry groans and squirms, watching as Zayn shifts upward. The mesh top is obscene on Harry, it's loose stitch allowing for the peaks of Harry's hard nipples to poke through the diamond pattern. Zayn takes one into his mouth and sucks hard without any preamble, reveling in the way Harry's fingers tangle into his hair and pull. It only encourages Zayn further, making him take the bud of Harry's nipple between his teeth and tug lightly until it's filling up the entirety of that single hole. 

Zayn rears back to admire his work. It looks a bit comical, Harry's nipple pulled through one of the diamond's of his mess top and looking an angry red. Zayn brushes his hand over it and down Harry's heaving chest, feeling the cotton material juxtaposed with the smoothness of Harry's skin.

"I want to come on this shirt," Zayn confesses, flicking over Harry's other nipple.

"You like it that much?"

"I like _you_ that much."

Harry smiles unrestrained, pulling Zayn down by the grip that he has on his hair. "Like me enough to give me a blowjob?" he asks, his swollen lips brushing against Zayn's.

Zayn responds by kissing his way to the hem of Harry's briefs, nuzzling at the hair there and really having no concern that Harry might think he's weird for it. Harry's dick bumps against Zayn's throat when he spends a bit too much time teasing, so Zayn wastes no time adding Harry's underwear to his jean's spot on the floor. He gets his mouth on Harry's cock immediately, licking along the shaft and squeezing his balls in one hand.

Harry seems restless with the way he keeps shuffling around and can hardly keep himself at a reasonable volume. Zayn wants to see him grip that sheets and be as loud as he pleases, so he takes Harry in without warning, covering what he can't with his hand.

"Zayn, oh god," Harry whimpers, hips pushing up until Zayn pins him down with his forearm.

Zayn feels hot and overwhelmed with his mouth full like this. He'd thought about it for months, but now it's actually happening; he can taste the saltiness of Harry's precome on his tongue and can feel that uncomfortable choking feeling building the farther he takes Harry in. It's grounding in some way because if Harry was the one sucking his cock or catering to him he might float away forever.

"I'm close, so fucking close," Harry grits out, abs jumping and contracting with each drag of Zayn's lips over his cockhead.

Zayn doesn't care that it's quick; he's surprised Harry's lasted this long when Zayn could come if Harry just fluttered his eyelashes on his dick. He pulls off and jerks Harry the rest of the way, mesmerized by the spit he left behind and the look on Harry's face. Zayn keeps his mouth close and feels when Harry comes, feels it warm on his lips, on his cheek and all over his hand.

When Harry finally looks at Zayn again, he's smiling and dopey, but Zayn doesn't want to finish with a mutual blowjob. "Flip over."

Harry looks quizzical, but does it anyway, putting his ass on display and looking back over his shoulder. "Gonna finger me?"

"Yeah, babe," Zayn says shakily, wiping the come from his face.

"Lemme get-."

"Don't need lube." Zayn shows Harry the come on his hand. Harry moans and nods his head fiercely.

It's so dirty; Zayn expected Harry to wrinkle his nose and shake his head no. But he didn't and Zayn is harder knowing that Harry is just as adventurous as he is. He shucks off his boxers with his clean hand before spreading Harry apart, running a clean finger over Harry's puckered hole and watching him clench.

"God, you're so fucking hot," Zayn says, now pressing a come covered finger against him and pushing in slightly.

Harry's whole body shakes, but he stays relatively silent. Zayn spits over his finger before fully pressing in. It's so hot and tight, Zayn can barely think straight. He crooks his finger and watches Harry melt against Zayn's sheets, his eyes closing. 

"You okay?"

"Yeah, perfect," Harry manages, nudging his legs against Zayn's.

Zayn presses in another finger, heat curling in his stomach when Harry's come gathers mostly around his hole instead of going inside. Zayn is so unbearably hard he might pass out, but he keeps pushing his fingers in and barely pulling them out, twisting and curling them until Harry shudders with a moan.

"Oh fuck." Harry hitches his hips up in the same way Zayn saw him the night before.

Zayn takes the opportunity to press at Harry's prostate more, circles his fingers and presses insistently against it until Harry sounds like he might sob. He slips a third finger in and sets up a relentless pace, fucking his fingers into Harry so hard and quick his wrist hurts with it. He reaches around to check if Harry's hard again and sure enough he is, still wet and tacky from coming before. 

"Are you going to come for me again?" Zayn asks, folding over Harry to press kisses along his spine.

"Yeah, please, just- touch me," Harry begs, legs beginning to shake.

Zayn pulls his fingers out of Harry just to spank him, leaving a wet, red mark on him. Harry keens loudly, going easily when Zayn pushes his hip for him to roll into his back again. 

Seeing Harry's face, him looking so lost in Zayn, makes Zayn want to fuck him until he can't say anything other than his name, but he's too close now. He clumsily grabs both of their cocks in one hand, pumping fast and tight and cataloging every miniscule expression on Harry's face. He wants to remember this whether it's their first or last time.

"Kiss me," Harry mumbles between heavy breaths, making grabby hands at Zayn that make him laugh.

"Idiot." Zayn leans over Harry to kiss him, but they end up just breathing each other in, quiet moans slipping into each other's mouths.

"I love it when you call me names," Harry gaspsjust before he comes with a shout, his hands ghosting along Zayn's sides.

Zayn lets go of Harry's cock and inches up his body. "Can I?"

Harry seems to understand Zayn perfectly, nodding and gazing up at Zayn as his hand works desperately over his cock. Zayn uses his free hand to run his thumb over Harry's lip, leaving a wet trail that Harry's tongue darts out to taste. Zayn moans, decidedly pushing his thumb into Harry's mouth and hooking his other fingers over his chin to pull his mouth open. Harry lets him, sloppily licking over his thumb while bringing his hand up to hold the backs of Zayn's thighs. The familiar heat curls in Zayn's lower stomach and he tries to keep control, but he can't stop the almost guttural groan that rips from his throat as he comes across Harry's chest, all over that stupid mesh shirt and his perky nipples. Harry sits up before Zayn finishes and wraps his lips over the tip of Zayn's cock, greedily taking what little come is left. 

"Jesus, Harry," Zayn mutters, wiping at the corner of Harry's lip where some of his come got smeared. 

"You know you're going to have to buy me a new shirt, right?”

“Maybe,” Zayn says, just to piss Harry off.

Harry rolls his eyes, but his smile is wide and doesn't suggest he's the slightest bit annoyed. "Hey, I didn't throw up this time."

"Thank God you didn't," Zayn says, holding his hand out for Harry. "Want to shower?"

"Only if we can cuddle after."

Zayn slaps Harry's ass when he gets up, liking the pretty red his skin turns. Harry yelps, but doesn't protest. "Preferably in your bed."

"Maybe," Harry says mockingly, and now it's Zayn's turn to roll his eyes.


End file.
